The man behind the Piano Van

A recent Friday, 8:38 p.m.: After finishing a song on the piano that’s bolted to the floor of his van, Chris Stroffolino peered out the side door, waiting for his audience to appear in the Safeway parking lot on Mission Street. A sign on the piano said, “Tips accepted.”

Photo: The Chronicle

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Chris Stroffolino waits for an audience as he sits in his Piano Van parked at the Safeway on Mission Street in San Francisco.

Chris Stroffolino waits for an audience as he sits in his Piano Van parked at the Safeway on Mission Street in San Francisco.

Photo: The Chronicle

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Once a contributing musician in the band Silver Jews, Chris Stroffolino plays a song in his Piano Van parked at the Safeway on Mission Street in San Francisco.

Once a contributing musician in the band Silver Jews, Chris Stroffolino plays a song in his Piano Van parked at the Safeway on Mission Street in San Francisco.

Photo: The Chronicle

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Sitting in a 1983 Ford Econoline he calls the Piano Van, Chris Stroffolino plays a song for a lone listener in the Safeway on Mission Street in San Francisco.

Sitting in a 1983 Ford Econoline he calls the Piano Van, Chris Stroffolino plays a song for a lone listener in the Safeway on Mission Street in San Francisco.

Photo: The Chronicle

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Parked on Mission Street, Chris Stroffolino takes a break from playing in his Piano Van in San Francisco.

Parked on Mission Street, Chris Stroffolino takes a break from playing in his Piano Van in San Francisco.

Photo: The Chronicle

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Seeking musical inspiration from his trumpet, Chris Stroffolino steps away from his Piano Van on Mission Street in San Francisco.

Seeking musical inspiration from his trumpet, Chris Stroffolino steps away from his Piano Van on Mission Street in San Francisco.

Photo: The Chronicle

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M.K. Caldwell and Chris Stroffolino collaborate on a cover tune in the Piano Van on Mission Street in San Francisco.

M.K. Caldwell and Chris Stroffolino collaborate on a cover tune in the Piano Van on Mission Street in San Francisco.

Photo: The Chronicle

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Chris Stroffolino plays plays the well worn keys of the piano that is bolted to the floor or his van in San Francisco.

Chris Stroffolino plays plays the well worn keys of the piano that is bolted to the floor or his van in San Francisco.

Photo: The Chronicle

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Tips are always accepted when Chris Stroffolino plays in his Piano Van.

Tips are always accepted when Chris Stroffolino plays in his Piano Van.

Photo: The Chronicle

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Chris Stroffolino takes a cigarette break while parked on Mission Street in San Francisco.

Chris Stroffolino takes a cigarette break while parked on Mission Street in San Francisco.

Photo: The Chronicle

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Trying to drum up interest in his Piano Van show, Chris Stroffolino plays outside a house part on the edge of the Mission district in San Francisco.

Trying to drum up interest in his Piano Van show, Chris Stroffolino plays outside a house part on the edge of the Mission district in San Francisco.

Photo: The Chronicle

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The man behind the Piano Van

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A lone man offered him a beer, which Stroffolino refused. It wasn’t the kind of tip that would pay for gas.

Stroffolino bought the 1983 Ford Econoline van off Craigslist two years ago and had a mechanic friend in Oakland install a piano that had been left on the street for whoever wanted it. He called the marriage of music and machine the Piano Van, a rolling venue intended to revive the communal experience of live music that Stroffolino thinks is being lost in a digital-download world.

“For me it’s always been about combining music and talk and creating events that bring people together,” he said. “The van has huge limitations in terms of my vision for music, but some of the most interesting things have happened when people come up to the van and they start singing. I think there is a real primal need for music to be in public spaces.”

M.K. Caldwell, sporting bright-pink hair and a punk rock aesthetic, walked by Stroffolino’s van on Mission Street and got it right away.

“I mean, there is a piano in a van. I don’t really need much more reason to stop than that,” said Caldwell, who left a tip of cash, not beer. “When I see displays of art and culture in San Francisco, I’m really drawn in. It’s really exciting. It’s why I moved here.”

Stroffolino, 51, has a doctorate in English and has written several books of poetry. But music seems to be his preferred language, and songs are his poetry for now.

He started playing trumpet in the fourth grade and got good enough to land gigs with bands over the years, including a recording appearance with the cult indie band Silver Jews in the late 1990s. When he was 18 he taught himself the basics of piano, because he wanted to be able to play an instrument that would make more than one note at a time and let him sing along.

The Piano Van “was supposed to be a temporary thing for me,” Stroffolino said. At first, he took it to L.A.

“I was going to have it for a few months,” he said. “The rents were supposed to be cheaper there. Instead, the van kind of blew up. People wanted to make films about it. People wanted to take pictures of it. I got some tips. So I played it out longer than I thought I was going to.”

He opened a Twitter account and Facebook page after people told him he might be on to something. Some told him he might be able to rival the food truck scene. An agent told him he could get bookings all over town.

The big time didn’t really pan out, however, and rents weren’t all that cheap. After playing all over for 18 months straight, often sleeping in the van, Stroffolino got wind of a temporary job as an English teacher at Laney College. In January, he moved back to Oakland.

He found a room to rent, but said the situation isn’t great. He stills opts to sleep in his van much of the time.

After leaving the Safeway parking lot, Stroffolino headed for a gig outside a house party above a store called the Heavy Metal Bike Shop on 29th Street. The idea was to play on the sidewalk during band breaks.

He wasn’t sure this was going to be his scene. The block was crawling with mustachioed hipsters in their 20s drinking cheap beer.

He launched into David Bowie’s “Life on Mars?”

“Bowie! You can’t go wrong,” said Colton Johnson, a 25-year-old bike courier. “He obviously has put a lot of time into it. I don’t know where he came from or if anyone invited him, but he found the right place to be. I don’t think it’s about the money.”

Johnson left no tip and opened another beer. Stroffolino kept playing.